


A Quiet Sense of Power

by BisexualHannibalLecter



Series: Hannibal Bingo Prompt Fills [9]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Molly, Blood and Gore, Crying, Drinking, F/M, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Past Pedophilia/CSA, Minor Character Death, Murder, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27423895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisexualHannibalLecter/pseuds/BisexualHannibalLecter
Summary: Will finds out that he and Molly are more alike than he ever could have imagined.
Relationships: Molly Graham/Will Graham
Series: Hannibal Bingo Prompt Fills [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936564
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26
Collections: Hannibal Bingo





	A Quiet Sense of Power

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note, this fic will discuss an instance of past child sexual abuse, but it does not directly involve any of the character present in the story. However, if discussion of sexual assaults is triggering, I suggest skipping this. <3
> 
> Filling the "Handgun" square of my Hannibal Bingo card!!!

Quiet darkness envelops the cabin, the soft gleam of the moon serving as the only source of light for the two occupants as they scurry around, desperately seeking a place to hide.

Molly Graham is calm as she shoves her son into the guest room closet and covers him in blankets. She takes his hand, tapping out an odd, quick rhythm.

“If you hear that, it’s safe. Don’t move until it’s safe,” she orders, pressing a kiss to his small hand. “Do you understand?”

The little boy nods and Molly covers him with another blanket before shutting the doors to the closet and slipping out of the room. She heads to the bedroom, slipping inside just before she hears the front door creak open. The blood in her veins should be frozen, but it’s not. Her entire body hums with adrenaline.

Molly walks over to her nightstand, hands searching for the gun she keeps at the very back of the bottom drawer, hidden under papers and random objects. She checks it, making sure it’s loaded, and takes a seat on the bed, listening for movement in the house.

Nothing.

Molly frowns. She looks at her bedside table, taking a deep breath before swiping at the lamp, knocking it to the floor with a loud crash. She turns to face the door as the footsteps grow louder, stairs creaking under the weight of the beast that has found its way into her home. A few moments later, a shadow blocks out the sparse light that had shone under the door. Molly aims the gun and cocks it.

The door creaks open slowly, revealing a tall man in leather, nylon obscuring the top half of his face. Molly takes just long enough to confirm with all of the certainty in the world that this man is the Red Dragon before she pulls the trigger. She doesn’t jump at the noise.

Moonlight filters through the blinds and reflects off the black stream that cascades down the side of Dolarhyde’s chest. His chest heaves and his hands dart to cover the bullet wound, applying pressure. The blood flows through his fingers.

Molly cocks the gun again and approaches Dolarhyde, watching him become frantic and angry. He opens his mouth and Molly pulls the trigger again, splattering his brains on the banister behind him.

She stares at the body for a moment, trying to conjure some other emotion inside of her that isn’t relief or disinterest. Fear, disgust, shock, grief— something. There was nothing, though. Even the gore splattered against the top of the stairs couldn’t inspire a stronger reaction. Her thumb rubs along the hammer, itching to draw it back again. After another moment, she drops the gun.

Molly sighs and turns away from the body, heading back to the guest bedroom. She lays her hand on the door and taps out the little rhythm she showed Walter earlier, and a few moments later she hears the soft rustling of blankets.

“Mom? I heard the gun,” he says.

Molly opens the closet and leans down to pick up her son. “Mom had to scare the bad guy away,” she says. “We’re gonna go outside now, okay? I have to call the police and dad so they know we’re okay.”

Walter nods. “Why do we have to go outside?”

Molly bites her lip. She doesn’t want to explain the sight just outside the bedroom door to her son.

“It’s a crime scene now, sweetie,” she finally says. “We have to go outside so we don’t mess anything up by accident. The police can’t do their job if we change anything.”

“Oh,” Walter says. “Okay.”

Molly bends down with Walter in her arms and grabs a blanket. “Put this over your head, sweetie,” she says. “And close your eyes.”

“But why?”

Molly kisses his forehead. “Just do it for mama, okay?”

Walter kisses Molly’s cheek and pulls the blanket over his head. He rests his cheek against Molly’s shoulder and closes his eyes, clutching at her tightly.

Molly holds her son close as she walks back into the hallway, slowly stepping over Dolarhyde’s body and making her way down the steps. She struggles a bit when she gets to the door, trying to hold Walter and open the door.

“I can walk, mama,” Walter says, squirming a bit.

She tightens her hold and yanks the door open. “No,” she says. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” 

She closes the door and trudges through the snow to the barn, trying to focus on her son and not the grisly sight that she was leaving behind. She holds Walter close, rocking him slightly and listening to his breathing. She needs to feel like a good person— like a  _ normal  _ person. She needs to feel something other than the numbing cocktail of emotions that swirled within her as she murdered Dolarhyde. She’s so focused on trying to push that part of her aside that she can’t even feel the frigid air biting at her cheeks.

She carries Walter into the barn, setting him down and pulling the blanket from his face. The one dog that had managed to avoid a trip to the vet immediately bounded over to Walter, licking at his hands and causing the young boy to laugh. Molly smiles, pressing a soft kiss to Walter’s forehead before pulling away.

She crosses the floor of the barn, getting out of earshot of Walter as she digs through her pocket for her phone and dials Will’s number.

* * *

Will pushes past orderlies and slams the door open, eyes locking on Hannibal as he sits at his desk and reads.

“What did you say to him?” Will demands, marching up to the thin barrier that stands between him and choking the life out of Hannibal. “What did you fucking say?”

Hannibal doesn’t bother to look up. “What did I say to whom, Will?” he asks.

“Dolarhyde,” Will spits. “My wife called me last night. Francis Dolarhyde attacked her and our son.”

Hannibal hums. “And how is she? Not too wounded, I’d wager, considering she called you.”

“Not a scratch,” Will says. “She’s lucky, but she’s also probably fucking traumatized from having to defend herself from a killer.”

“Language,” Hannibal chides. His eyes flick upward, landing on Will’s face. “And the Dragon?”

“Dead,” Will replies. “One bullet to the chest, another to the head.”

Hannibal’s eyes widen in surprise and his jaw nearly drops. He takes a moment to collect himself, and then a grin spreads across his face. “I knew it,” he says.

Will suppresses a shiver at Hannibal’s tone. “Knew what, Dr. Lecter?”

“She survived the Great Red Dragon. Takes more than a pinch of luck.” There’s a knowing look in Hannibal’s predatory gaze. “You married her for something.”

“And that means?” Will asks, feigning ignorance. He doesn’t want to confront what Hannibal is implying. Molly is a good woman. A kind woman. A normal woman. She’s no killer. She’s not Hannibal.

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal says, leaning his head in his hand. “Why don’t you go and ask the forensics team how close she must have been when she took the headshot?”

Bile rises in Will’s throat. “Fuck you,” he grumbles, turning on his heel and leaving.

He can still hear Hannibal’s whispers as he exits the building.

* * *

Molly is making dinner when Will gets home. She had only recently returned from the motel with Walter, as the forensics team had taken their sweet time processing the scene. It was a bit late for their usual dinner, bordering on eight at night, but Molly doesn’t mind. After the night and day she’s had, all she wants is a home-cooked meal, a stiff drink, and a good night’s rest.

Will takes a seat at the bar and watches his wife cook, trying to reconcile the image of her that has lived in his mind the past three years with the developing theory of who—or what—she really is. He reaches for the glass of whiskey Molly has poured for herself and downs what’s left.

Molly smacks him on the arm good-naturedly. “Rude,” she chides. “Pour another if you want me to share.”

Will nods and goes to pour another glass, fingers twitching as he opens the bottle of whiskey hidden in the back of the cabinet. He fills the cup halfway and leaves the bottle out on the counter.

“Are you okay?” Will asks, coming up behind Molly and wrapping an arm around her.

“As okay as I can be,” Molly replies. She takes the glass from Will’s hand and takes a long sip, leaning back against her husband. “It was…scary,” she whispers.

Will frowns. The words don’t sound genuine in his ears. He bites his lip, wondering if he dares shatter the peaceful portrait he has created with his wife and son.

He has to know.

“It must have been,” he says, taking the glass back. He knocks back half of what’s left before continuing. “Being so close to a serial killer and knowing it was him or you. Sounds terrifying.”

Molly squirms a bit. “I think you’d know best,” she replies, a nervous edge to her voice. “And it wasn’t too close. I shot him from the bed. He was just outside the door of our room.”

“The first shot, yes. But I spoke to the forensics team before I came home.”

Molly goes rigid in Will’s arms.

“They said the gun couldn’t have been more than two feet away when you shot Dolarhyde in the head.”

Molly snatches the glass from Will and wriggles out of his hold. “What do you want me to say, Will? That I wish it was me and not him? That I wish I would’ve chanced running away instead of defending myself?”

Will looks his wife in the eyes for a moment before closing his own. He sees himself as Molly, taking the first shot. He sits there, waits for a moment, watching the blood seep through Dolarhyde’s clothes and onto the hardwood floor. He approaches him, gun still drawn, stepping over the threshold and staring him down. He cocks the gun and fires. He feels nothing as he watches the inside of Dolarhyde’s head decorate the banister and floor.

Will’s eyes shoot open as a startling realization dawns on him.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve killed someone.”

The glass of whiskey hits the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. Dark amber liquid fills the lines between the floor tiles. Neither Molly nor Will move, staring at each other in shocked silence until a voice calls to them from upstairs.

“Mom? Dad? What was that?” Walter yells. Little footsteps begin to descend the staircase.

“Nothing!” Molly shouts. “Mama just knocked a cup over by accident, don’t worry. Stay upstairs, I’ll call you down when dinner is finished.”

There’s a frantic, worried look in Molly’s eyes as she stands there, rooted to the spot, waiting for her son to reply.

Finally, he says, “Okay.” The footsteps recede.

Molly exhales and looks down at the mess.

“Molly—”

“Will, please,” she says, staring at the floor. “I can’t.  _ I can’t. _ ”

Will stares at his wife, at the tears brimming in her eyes, and drops the subject with a curt nod. He helps Molly clean the mess and finish dinner.

After they’ve all eaten and Molly has put Walter to bed, Will finds Molly in their bedroom. She’s sitting on the end of the bed, staring at the space where Dolarhyde’s body had been the night before.

“What do you want me to tell you, Will?” she asks, voice hollow.

Will sits beside Molly and takes her hand. “The truth.” He presses a kiss to her knuckles. “Let’s start there.”

Molly swallows and nods, still staring straight ahead. She’s silent for quite some time before she speaks.

“Dolarhyde is the second,” she admits softly. “The first was just before I met you, almost four years ago.”

“Who was it?” Will asks softly.

Molly finally turns to look at him. “Walter’s father.”

Of all the things Will expected, this didn’t even register.

“You told me he was in an accident,” Will replies, searching for a sign on Molly’s face that she was lying. “He was driving drunk. His car ran off the side of the road and caught fire. That’s what you told me.”

Molly looks down at her lap. “His car did go off the side of the road. He was drunk. It caught fire. None of that is a lie.” She squeezes Will’s hand. “I got him drunk. I staged the crash. It took some planning, had to make it all look right, had to get an alibi, but… It was worth it, Will. He deserved to die.”

_ He deserved to die. _

Will shudders at those words.

“Why?” he asks.

“He was a threat to my son,” she answers simply. “I… It started just after Walter’s seventh birthday party. He wanted one of his friends to stay the night, a little boy from his classes. They both liked the same video game, and Walter had just gotten it for his birthday, and—” Molly inhales sharply. “I know I’m rambling,” she says softly. “I just need to take my time with this.”

Will nods and squeezes her hand. “It’s okay, Molly.” His other hand moves to rub her back.

Molly melts into the touch and takes another deep breath. “The boy had an older sister, she was eleven or twelve. Their parents had to go out of town, some sort of family emergency, and they asked if we’d keep their daughter that night, too. I didn’t have a problem with that, she was really polite and well-behaved, and we had plenty of space. So I said yes.” Molly leans against Will’s shoulder. “I feel like it’s my fault sometimes. If I’d just stayed home that night . . .” Molly begins to shake.

“Whatever happened isn’t your fault, Molly,” Will soothes.

“I should have been there,” she sniffles. “But it had been such a long day and I spent most of it setting up and cleaning up the party and I just wanted some peace and quiet. I drove to the park after the kids got settled in and the cleaning was done. I just wanted to relax and watch the sunset. I sat there for almost an hour, just staring at the horizon, and I felt so peaceful.” Molly says wistfully. “I got back in my car a few minutes after it got dark and decided to check the nanny cams I’d installed last winter. They were just to see if Walter was sneaking down and opening his presents on Christmas, but he didn’t so I never really brought them up to his dad. Just sort of slipped my mind.” Molly shrugs. “Opened up the app, scrolled through the cams, and I saw Walter and his friend fast asleep in Walter’s room. I thought it was weird because they had been so excited about playing that game.”

Will’s stomach churns as Molly speaks, suspicions already forming in his mind. The theories that came to mind sapped all the warmth from his body.

“I checked the living room, the kitchen— didn’t see anything.” Molly’s free hand digs into her thigh. “And then I checked the guest room. Where I’d put the little girl.” Molly swallows. “She wasn’t in there alone.”

“No…” Will breathes, the pieces falling into place. “No. Molly, oh my God.”

Tears roll down Molly’s cheeks as she tries to push away the images from that night. “She was asleep,” Molly chokes out. “And he was…He was—” Molly’s voice cracks. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Will holds Molly close as she begins to sob on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” he whispers. “You didn’t know he would do that. How could you know?”

“It happened under my roof. It was  _ my husband.  _ I should have known if there was something wrong with him. I should have known,” she cries.

Will doesn’t reply. He continues to hold Molly close, shushing her and whispering words of comfort until she stops crying and her breathing is halfway normal.

“I called him,” she continues, wiping her eyes. “Almost dropped my fucking phone. I was a wreck and I think he could tell. I asked him how the kids were and he lied through his fucking teeth and told me they were fine and that he was in downstairs in the living room. I asked him to stay on the line with me until I got home. He said he would, but about five minutes before I got home the call ended. He missed my call when I redialed. Said his phone died when I got home and he’d put it on the charger.” Molly sneers. “He was always such a bad fucking liar. I knew he hung up so he could cover his tracks. I stayed awake and next to him until the kids left that next morning. Didn’t let him out of my sight unless all three of them were with me. Also found some of my sleeping pills missing.”

Will kisses Molly’s forehead. “Do you need to stop?” he asks. “You don’t have to tell me everything at once. I know this is difficult, Molly.”

She shakes her head. “I need to get it all out. I’ve never told anyone and I just…It’s like opening a dam. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to tell someone until I started to tell you.”

Will nods. “Take your time, then. Keep going when you’re ready.”

Molly dries her eyes with the corner of her shirt, then lays back on the bed, pulling Will down with her.

“A couple of weeks later I arranged for Walter to stay the night with my parents. Told them I wanted to have a couple’s weekend,” she says, snuggling up to Will. She picks at a loose thread on his flannel shirt. “I got him drunk. Real fuckin’ drunk. Stupid drunk. Took some coaxing, but…I got him to admit what he was. What he did. I asked him if he’d done it before, and he said yeah. And you know what the sick fuck said?”

Will glances at Molly warily, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“He said he preferred girls, but boys were fine, too.” Molly looks as if repeating the line might make her vomit. “All I could think about was Walter. All I could think about was, God, did he already hurt my baby? Was I that fucking blind?”

Molly begins to tremble again, fresh tears pricking her eyes. Will kisses them away as they rolled down her cheeks.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeats softly.

Molly sniffles. “I asked him. I asked him if he’d hurt Walter. He said no.”

Will could feel that there was more to the statement. “But?”

“It didn’t sound like  _ no. _ It… It sounded like _ not yet. _ So I crushed up one of my sleeping pills and put it in his next drink. Left his sorry ass on the couch while I planned everything out. Two months later, I was a widow. Six months after that, Walter and I moved up here. Not much longer after that, we met, and, well…” Molly gestures between them. “I guess you know how that story ends.”

“With me loving my wife,” Will supplies, kissing Molly’s forehead. “I love you, Molly. You’re a good wife and a good mother and a good woman.”

The smile that had begun to appear on Molly’s face slowly vanishes. “Don’t say that,” she says. “Please. I’m not…Will, you can’t call me a good woman after what I did. A-after how I felt.”

Will locks eyes with Molly. “How did you feel?” he asks softly.

“Will,  _ please— _ ”

Will shushes her. “Tell me.” 

There’s an odd emotion swimming in his blue eyes that Molly can’t quite place. The soft encouraging tone pulls the words from her before she can think about it.

“I felt good.”

A soft gasp leaves Will, but there is no disgust in his eyes. Only a pleasant sort of shock.

“Doing bad things to bad people makes you feel good,” he says.

Molly nods. “I feel something else, too,” she says, the dam bursting open wider. “But I can’t quite place it. I feel… I feel…”

“Powerful,” Will suggests.

Molly’s eyes widen and she nods slightly. “Is there something you want to tell me, Will?”

Will shakes his head and sits up, beginning to pull his clothes off and prepare for bed. “Not tonight. There’s been enough dredging up the past for one evening.” 

Molly sits up and reaches out, fingers brushing along the now exposed scar on Will’s stomach. “Does it have anything to do with this?” she asks. She stands, and her hand moves up, fingers tracing the edge of the bullet wound on his left shoulder. Her other hand touches the bullet wound on his right shoulder. “Or these?”

Will reaches out and cups her cheek, drawing her in until their foreheads touch. “I promise you, I’ll tell you everything, I just need time. Same as you.”

Molly pecks him on the lips before pulling away, beginning to undress as well. “I understand, Will. Take your time.” She slips under the covers. “But one more thing.”

“Yes?” Will asks, sliding in next to her.

Molly catches Will’s gaze with her own, her expression more serious than he’s ever seen. “If you become a threat to my son, I will kill you. Do you understand me? If you hurt him, if you plan to hurt him, I will put a bullet in your brain.”

Will feels a pleasant warmth gather in the pit of his stomach and he blushes. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, I understand. I want you to know, though, that I love him. I love our son. I promise to protect him, and you, if need be. You’re my family.”

Molly kisses Will, soft and slow. “Good.” She reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, then snuggles up next to Will. “I love you. Get some sleep.”

Will presses kisses into her hair. “I love you, too. Good night, Molly.”

Will drifts off to sleep feeling lighter than he has in weeks. He had wanted a normal wife and a normal family and a normal life, but this was what he got. He couldn’t find it in himself to be anything but content.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story please leave a kudos! Comments are super appreciated! If you want to find/follow/friend me on other platforms, here are my usernames! Don’t be shy! 
> 
> @bisexywill on Tumblr (Main Blog)  
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